


The Lady of the Downs

by mrsredboots



Category: Puck of Pook's Hill Series - Rudyard Kipling
Genre: Crimean War, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 08:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15837624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsredboots/pseuds/mrsredboots
Summary: Una, out for a walk, meets Puck, and a lady dressed in black.





	The Lady of the Downs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fawatson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/gifts).



Dan and Una were staying, as last summer, in a flint cottage in a seaside village some thirty miles from home, at the foot of the great Downs. Una had hoped that, as they had done before, they would spend time on the Downs with Mr Dudeney, the shepherd. But Dan had grown fascinated by the fishermen whose boats were drawn up on the shingle beach each morning, and on that particular day, he had eagerly accepted an invitation to go out with one of them, leaving Una at a loose end.

Old Jim, the shepherd’s retired dog, had died over the winter, and Una had no guide this year to take her on to the Downs, but there were paths, and she knew she could find her way home as long as she followed them. So she begged a packed lunch from the kitchens, and set off.

An hour’s walk brought her to a favourite spot, a high, north-facing ridge overlooking a valley. It was hot, and she was thirsty, so she sat down on the short, close-cropped turf, to rest awhile and drink from her water-bottle.

“Hullo, Una,” came a familiar voice, and a familiar, stocky figure came over the ridge of the hill-fort.

“Puck!” exclaimed Una in delight, knowing – remembering – previous ventures with the Oldest Old Thing in England. “We haven’t seen you this year!”

“Dan is getting too old now; he doesn’t want to believe in me any more. You won’t, in a year or two, you know.”

“Oh, I will, I will – always!” exclaimed Una, earnestly. “Lots of people do, you know – look at Old Hobden at home… and some of the people you introduced us to last summer and the one before. Not that we ever remember them, unless we see you!”

Puck laughed. “As I told you, we can’t have you telling people who would not believe. Maybe when you are older you will find the memories again. But here comes someone you will like to know.”

The someone turned out to be a woman in late middle-age, dressed in the fashion of some fifty years ago. She was wearing black, and weeping quietly as she walked along.

“Courage, dearest Kate,” said Puck. “He died doing his duty to his country; you can be very proud of him.”

“He wanted to go,” said Kate. “He could have stayed in England and been safe. But he wanted to go.”

Una was all curiosity. Who was this lady, and who was the “he” who had wanted to go somewhere, and had died there? But she knew that with Puck, all would soon be revealed, so she sat quietly.

“Una, dear, this is Lady Brooke-Pechell,” said Puck. “Kate, this is Una.”

Una stood up and dropped a curtsy. “How do you do?”

“How do you do? I am so sad today. I have come out to walk over the Downs, perhaps as far as my beloved Parham, which I hope will help soothe my mind.”

“Parham?” asked Una, timidly.

“Don’t you know Parham? Parham Park, near Storrington. I shall walk down into the Furlong, and then over Blackpatch Hill, and I will be there, and someone will take me back to Castle Goring in a carriage. Come, walk with me a little way.”

Una got up, and obediently fell into step with Lady Brooke-Pechell and with Puck. She trusted Puck not to let her get too far from home.

“You will think me very unsocial, I’m afraid,” explained Lady Brooke-Pechell. “We have just had news that my son, my beloved William, has been killed at Sebastopol.”

“Oh, I’m so very sorry!” cried Una.  She didn't know much about Sebastopol, except that it was on the Crimean Peninsula, where there had been a war fifty years earlier, and Alfred, Lord Tennyson, had written a poem about it.  Oh, and Miss Nightingale had been out there before she established her School of Nursing in London.

“We are so sad,” went on Lady Brooke-Pechell, as though Una hadn’t spoken. “I hate soldiers. Both my brothers died on active service, too. Charles died first, of yellow fever, in Jamaica, and then our beloved Cecil died of wounds in Canada. So there were only Harriet and me left. And Grumpus – my papa, you know – lost his money, and Harriet was so very ill. That was a bad, bad time. I wanted to marry George, but they wouldn’t let me. They said he wasn’t good enough. Harriet was allowed to marry, even though she was ill. Harriet was married, and my brothers were dead, and there was I, alone with Snugest, as we called our mama, and Grumpus.”

“But the bad time passed!” said Puck. "And remember the good times you had - going to Brighton, being presented to the Prince Regent, being friendly with the Princess.  Bad times do pass."

“That bad time, yes. We got used to my brothers' being gone. But when, oh when, will we ever get used to dear William’s not being there any more?”

“And Harriet got better.”

“Yes, Harriet got better, and she had her two boys; they have been such a comfort to her. And now she has grandchildren…. I don’t know whether I shall ever have grandchildren now. Darling Henrietta is being courted by Percy Burrell, but whether anything will come of it. And darling Adelaide, well, I must have one of my girls at home with me this year.”

“And you married George,” prompted Puck.

“Oh yes, I married George. After eleven years, when they had sent him away because they thought he wasn’t good enough. But I wouldn’t marry anybody else, and eventually they gave in.”

“And you’ve been happy with him.”

“Happy, yes. But he has shut himself away from me now, since the news came. Nothing can ever be right now, nothing!”

And she burst into a veritable paroxysm of weeping. Puck looked, Una thought, nearly as uncomfortable as she felt.

“Dear Lady, please don’t cry,” said Una. “I’m sure your son wouldn’t have wanted you to.”

“No,” Lady Brooke-Pechell almost shouted. “No, he wouldn’t. He could have stayed safely in England, but no, he insisted on going to the Crimea. We were in the process of arranging his transfer to a regiment that would have stayed at home, but he insisted we stop it. He was upset – upset! - when it looked as though he’d have to stay, after all, and then so delighted when the order came through to rejoin his regiment. Oh, my poor Bobo!

“We saw him off, you know. A week before he left, we all went to see the screw steam transport. We were anxious to go on board previous to the embarkation of the troops she was to take out to the East. I saw the cabin my dear William was to share with two other officers, containing three berths, their names Wombwell and Campbell. And his horse, stabled in Hill Street until the last moment, and his servant, Stevens.  It was dreadful to see all this, but I determined to go through it. And then, on the 15th, he telegraphed to us to come as the 'Prince' was on the point of departure.  We all went to the hotel at Greenhithe. We went on board the 'Prince', and we also passed the day walking about with dear William, for the last time, as it turned out. We went on board an Austrian steamer. We dined together for the last time, and parted with that dearly beloved child. I lay down on my bed and slept two hours and then watched the lights of the 'Prince' at dawn. I saw preparations were making for getting up the steam before I went down to watch from the sitting room window, and actually saw her towed away by a little steamer quite out of sight, and when in deep water they were gone.”

“Did you have any more communication with him?” asked Una, feeling greatly daring.

“Oh yes, he wrote. He made light of it all, but you could see he was really uncomfortable – first on the steamer, which went really slowly, and they weren’t able to make much progress. It was nearly a month before they reached Constantinople, and longer still to get to Sebastopol. And then all winter his tent must have been really dreadful, cold and wet, and it kept blowing over. They were supposed to get houses, but nobody had thought how to get them up from the shore to where they were, and it was too muddy, so they were stuck in cold, wet, tents. And then all summer it was hot and unbearably dusty; and when they weren’t in the dust, they were in the trenches, being fired at and firing at the Russians. It must have been dreadful, dreadful! But he made light of it; he seldom complained.  And now he’s dead, and he’s never, never going to come home!”

Una, too, was beginning to cry at the sad story.

“Come, Kate,” said Puck. “You must walk on now if you’re to get to Parham before dark. And we must send Una home, so that she’s not late for her tea.”

“But Puck,” asked Una, “What happened next?”

“Kate went on, as we all need to go on after a death. She and George grieved, of course, as did their daughters, but life goes on, and unlike Queen Victoria, some years later, they did go on with their lives. Farewell, dear Una; I will see you again some day.”

Una sat up. She was still on the ridge, but the shadows had moved quite a long way – had she slept most of the afternoon? And why was she crying?  She must have had a very sad dream, but she couldn't quite remember it.  No, it had gone.  She got up and, finding the gate to the footpath, made her way slowly southward towards the sea.

**Author's Note:**

> Kate's story is essentially true. You can read about her in Peter Bowman's [The Real Persuasion](https://goo.gl/axdrNg). I have quoted a little from the beginning of a family document, "The Pechell Letters", a transcription of William Pechell's letters home from the Crimea, preceded by a few of Kate's diary entries. William was buried in Sebastopol, but a statue in his honour was raised in Brighton; you can still see [what's left of it](https://jamesmulraine.com/2015/06/07/captain-bill-the-headless-statue-of-waterloo-street/). Parham Park is still there, and open to the public; Kate's house, Castle Goring, is also still there, and remained in her family for a further 150 years or so. Now owned by Lady Colin Campbell, it is used as a wedding and party venue.


End file.
